


Ar Scáth A Chéile A Mhaireann Na Daoine

by TaFuilLiom



Series: Saolré [3]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Maggie doing cop stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 14:14:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13549056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaFuilLiom/pseuds/TaFuilLiom
Summary: Maggie Sawyer never tries to be anyone's hero, it just so happens that sometimes she is anyway.Or, a year in Maggie's life following the fight in the desert.





	Ar Scáth A Chéile A Mhaireann Na Daoine

**Author's Note:**

> Here you go, lads. It's the companion piece that tracks Maggie and Alex working their way back to each other. Alternative title is 'a bunch of times where Maggie Sawyer tries to save the day'. Any mistakes are my own because this week has been messy x Thanks for all the patience x

**_Ar scáth a chéile a mhaireann na daoine_ **

_ Under the shelter of each other, people survive.  _

~

At the DEO, Maggie holds her head between her knees, waiting for ache in her skull to fade. She isn’t sure how long she has been in this position when boots caked in sand and the tip of a sword appear in her eyeline. Slowly she raises her head, catching a bloody lip, matted hair, dark eyes and a sheepish smile.

The relief that floods her body drowns out the pain at last. 

~

It goes like this. 

They fight, and they win. Alex slices the head off the Hedozian, not without getting a few bad knocks herself, and holds his head up in the air as his followers fall back into the dust. 

When all is said and done, Maggie wordlessly follows Alex back to her apartment where, blood-splattered and dirty from the desert, they come together again. They ignore the injuries they’ve picked up, the sword clattering to the floor. 

After they shower and eat, Maggie sleeps on her side of Alex’s bed, as easy as muscle memory.  

And without talking about it, they fall into something familiar, and strange all at once.

 

**_Birth_ **

A week after the almost-apocalypse, and Maggie is back at work. 

More accurately, she is leaning against the hood of an NCPD squad car, trying to negotiate with some aliens who have decided to take a number of hostages at the bank they were attempting to rob. The issue is that one of the hostages is a heavily pregnant woman, who Maggie is now trying to calm through her secure connection.

_ “Detective Sawyer, my water broke. I-It’s already broken.” _

“It’s okay, Karen. You’re going to be just fine. How far apart are the contractions?” Maggie asks, sparing a glance at the two paramedics on standby.

_ “They’re getting closer. Please don’t let me and my baby die, please.” _

Maggie takes stock of the situation outside the bank, the woman’s pleas echoing in her ears. Even with all the personnel on standby, this is the one time where Supergirl’s superspeed and eagerness to get into the fray would come in handy. Checking her watch, Maggie wonders where the hell Kara is right now.

There is a crackle on the phone and the lead perpetrator is back on.

_ “This lady is going bananas. Give us what we want, and we’ll get going.” _

“That  _ lady _ is about to have a baby. She needs a doctor. How about letting the EMT guys in there to help her out, huh?”

The suggestion earns her a stony glare from one of the paramedics, and a look of terror from the other. There’s muffled discussion over the waves, and then the alien is speaking again.

_ “You’re the only one who’s getting in here, Detective Sawyer. No guns, no back up. Just you.” _

She snorts. “Come on. She needs someone with medical-”

_ “Only you. No one else is coming in.” _

She is used to making tough decisions at the drop of the hat, but she clutches the brim of this particular one. She has very little medical knowledge out of keeping wounds clean and the CPR course that the whole department have to do annually. 

_ If only Dr Danvers were here. _

Maggie digs into her pocket, pulling out her own cell and dialling Alex. Three tones tell her the line is engaged.

“Jesus, Alex,” Maggie hisses, and then pivots towards the paramedics. “You’re gonna have to help me.”

The younger paramedic’s eyes bug as Maggie shoves the phone in his direction. “Hey, listen-”

“My basic first aid training does not cover any of this. So you gotta guide me if anything goes wrong.” 

The older paramedic sneers. “You don’t seriously think you can just go in there and deliver? Shouldn’t you concentrate on getting her out so we can take her to the hospital?”

“What, you don’t think I’ve been trying to do that for the last three hours?” Maggie snaps, unclipping her holster and handing it to a uniformed officer behind her. “That woman is in distress and she needs help right now. This is the first leeway these guys have given us. I’m gonna go in there and see what her condition is. Are you gonna help me or not?”

He scratches his forehead and sighs. “Alright. Don’t get yourself killed.”

“I’ll try not to,” Maggie replies flatly. 

Feeling the eyes of the entire crowd on her, both police and civilian, Maggie ducks under the tape and moves towards the steps. Onlookers whisper, photographers click their shots. With the flash of their cameras, she thinks about James, recovering from his wounds.  

She enters the bank with her arms raised. 

“Detective Sawyer-” she starts, before being grabbed by two bulky, purple aliens. 

She grimaces as they search her for weapons, but bears it, because the wellbeing of a woman whimpering just out of sight is more important than her comfort zone. With a grunt, the alien finishes his search. He shoves her in the direction of a large pillar.

“Behind there.”

“Can I at least get the secure phone?” It skids to a stop at her foot. “Charming.”

Maggie shrugs her windbreaker around her shoulders and crosses the marble bank floor towards the sobbing. Sparing a single glance at the counter, she guesses the rest of the hostages are hiding underneath the desk. 

She finds a young woman with matted black hair, rosy cheeks, and a large bump. 

“Hey Karen, I’m Detective Sawyer.” She kneels down beside the woman, instinctively taking her hand and squeezing. She hopes it’s reassuring, hopes Karen can’t feel her own hand shaking. “I’m probably shorter than you expected,” she jokes.

It works, drawing a huff of laughter from the expectant woman. “I think I’m going to have this baby in this bank, Detective Sawyer. I-”

She rears back and shrieks, clutching her swollen stomach. Maggie winces, and takes off her police windbreaker, folding it as much as she can and laying it behind Karen’s head. 

“I’m going to take a little look, okay?” she asks, moving her hand to one of Karen’s bent knees.

“I’m sorry, this is so embarrassing,” Karen sobs.

“It’s fine, I’ve seen plenty of these in my life,” Maggie mutters, moving between her legs. She gently pushes the hem of the dress up and looks down. 

_ But holy shit, nothing like this. _

“What’s that face for?” the woman asks, frantic. “What’s happening?”

“Woah, okay,” Maggie breathes. “I can already see the head.”

_ “What’s going on, Detective Sawyer?” _

“I need to push!” 

Maggie scrambles to lift the phone. “Her contractions are-” The woman lets out a scream as another hits. “-Really close.”

_ “It seems she must be a lot further along than we expected. You’re going to have to help with the delivery.” _

“The delivery. Okay.”

Maggie pulls her hair back into the tightest ponytail she can manage. She shuffles around and reaches into the pocket of her police windbreaker, taking out a pair of crime scene gloves. Her hands tremble so much that she almost drops one before managing to get them on. She smacks the rubber on her wrist, if only to feel a spark of something other than jittering nerves.

“I’ve never done this before. Had a baby. This is my f-first,” Karen says anxiously. 

_ I’ve never done this before, either. _

“It’s okay, deep breaths,” Maggie says, not sure if it is for Karen’s benefit or her own. 

“I-I wasn’t even supposed to be out today. But I-I just-”

Karen’s rambling is interrupted by a crash above them, and Maggie instinctively moves to shield the woman as dust and plaster rain down. Supergirl lands beside them a second later.

“About time, Supergirl,” Maggie grunts, wedging the phone between her shoulder and her ear.

“Hi, Maggie!” Kara chirps, and then doubletakes. “Oh my God, are you-?” 

“Yes-” She grits her teeth as Karen lets out another wail, arching her back. “Since I’m a little busy, can you kindly take care of our friends over there?”

One of the aliens growls and raises his weapon, and in an instant Supergirl is beside them, protecting them with her cape from the blast. With a deep breath she’s tearing off towards the would-be robbers, and Maggie is focused on the task at hand. 

_ “Detective Sawyer? Can you see the head?” _

“Yes,” Maggie says. “I can see the head.”

“Detective, I need to push,” Karen says, grappling with the pillar behind her.

_ “You need to put something clean underneath her, or she risks infection.” _

Maggie hunches away from a gust of wind and a crash behind her, wedging the phone tighter to her ear. “Look, I don’t think any of that is gonna be possible right now, giving the current situation. I’m pretty sure this kid is about to pop out into my lap.”

Something cracks at the pillar above her head, and Maggie rears back. “Watch it!”

“Sorry!” Supergirl fires back.

Karen cries out. “Detective!”

_ “Detective?” _

“Tell me what to do already!” she barks. 

_ “You’re going to have to cradle the head.” _

Maggie shuffles closer on her knees, gingerly reaching out to support the top of the baby’s head. 

_ “The baby is going to come right out into your hands once both shoulders are out. Catch, don’t pull! Be wary of the umbilical cord-”  _

Karen pushes as hard as she can, whole body shuddering in an all out scream as she careens. Maggie’s world is blown wide open as the baby slips further into her hands. 

“You’re doing so good, Karen. So good,” she breathes, feeling like she’s just sustained her head injury all over again, the bank dizzying around her. 

For those final few moments, Maggie is suspended away from her body, like her physical actions aren’t being controlled by her. She isn’t sure what the length of time is, but then she’s holding a wailing, wriggling newborn in her arms. Karen is panting, crying, and Maggie realises she’s laughing in great puffs of breath, tears of relief stinging the corners of her eyes. 

Supergirl contains the situation around them, but Maggie doesn’t even notice her anymore.

~

Maggie slips off the bloody gloves, throwing them into a trashcan outside the bank. Some of the rookies at the perimeter clap and holler at her, and she shrugs. She straps her gun back on and fantasises about the hot shower she’s going to get back at the precinct.

And then a familiar trio of blacked out SUVs roll up. She drapes her windbreaker back over her shoulders as Alex jumps out with her team. 

“Nice of the DEO to turn up and finally lend a hand.” She crosses her arms across her chest.

Alex comes to a stop in front of her. “Well, you’re always complaining that you don’t want us to come and mess up your situation, so we thought we’d let you peddle on your own for a while.”

A few of the agents behind Alex snicker, and if it wasn’t for soft eyes above that charming smile, Maggie would feel like the little kid getting picked on. She pulls her police windbreaker tighter. It drowns her, and today especially it feels more like a security blanket.

Alex opens her mouth, drinking in her bloodied appearance, when Supergirl lands beside her, beaming.

“Oh my God, Alex, you missed it! Maggie delivered a baby!” she gushes. “All by herself!”

Maggie has seen a lot of emotions directed at her from Kara, but she isn’t sure she’s ever been granted this much pride and amazement before.

Alex’s eyebrows shoot up, and she catches sight of Karen and her new baby girl over Maggie’s shoulder. “Oh my God.”

“I mean, the EMTs pretty much talked me through it. It’s no big deal,” Maggie dismisses.

“It’s a pretty big deal!” Kara asserts. “You didn’t have any help except that phone! Or weapons and those were  _ scary _ aliens. And no one died!”

Alex’s hard stare is now focused on Maggie, and Kara coughs when neither of them speak. After a brief excuse about work, she launches into the sky. Absentmindedly, Maggie runs her fingertips over the healing gash on her forehead. It has been pulsing since she left the bank.  _ I’m never letting Sara Lance stitch me up again.  _

“I’m gonna go and check in with my lieutenant. He’s probably pretty mad that I went into that situation unarmed.”

“I bet,” Alex says, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m pretty mad at you myself.”

Maggie smirks. “Gee, Danvers. You look pretty pleased to me.”

“It was reckless.”

“But?”

“But…” Alex watches the new mother and her daughter be lifted into the ambulance. “All things considered, that was impressive. Amazing, even.”

“Yeah,” Maggie breathes. The ambulance sails past them, and she waves at the older paramedic, who nods. “Yeah it was.”

“The start of life is a blank slate.” Alex leans a little closer, lowering her voice. “The start of something new.” 

Maggie raises an eyebrow at the subtext dripping from her voice. “Don’t push your luck, Danvers.”

 

**_Youth_ **

Two months since the Hedozian, and Alex and Maggie are a regular thing. 

It began the night after the baby in the bank, when they had shared bitter coffee in a late-night cafe, frustrated at a case they had fielded that afternoon. Deciding to call it a night, the simmering tension had boiled over, and they ended up making out against the wall outside, and spending the night in Alex’s bed. 

Then it happened again a week later, and again, and suddenly it was a pattern. 

She wouldn’t say they’re back together exactly, but they’re much more than hooking up. Friends with benefits denies the sharp undercurrents that they still clearly have for one another. 

They’ve just gotten good at masking it with lust. 

As they wade through the emotional and moral messiness of it, pieces of their old routine fall back into place. Maggie starts stocking Alex’s brand of coffee, and Maggie’s favourite shampoo reappears in Alex’s shower. 

This afternoon, she plans to drop into the LGBTQ youth centre, because all things considered she hasn’t been around there in a while. Usually she visits during the morning, but staying the night with Alex Danvers runs the risk of being pulled back into bed multiple times.   

She sits on the edge of the bed, stretching her arms when a thumb traces up her spine, counting the vertebrae. She turns to look over her shoulder. 

“Let me take you to lunch today?”

Maggie drops her arms, rolling her neck. “Anywhere but Noonan’s.”

The thumb falls away. “Thought you liked the coffee there?”

“I do. But let’s go somewhere new.”

Alex smiles lazily. “That sounds like we’re creeping closer to a serious talk.”

Maggie chuckles, running a hand through her hair. “As crazy and fun as this has all been, we do need to talk. Because this? Sleeping together? We need to actually talk about it, and stop pretending it’s not complicated.”

“Right now?” Alex asks, fingertips creeping around Maggie’s hipbone and tickling the skin there. 

“No, not right now,” Maggie replies, letting temptation pull her back into the sheets.

Later, she stands in front of the shelter like she always does, wondering how things would have been different if she had’ve had this at fourteen. Sure, her parents would still have thrown her out. But maybe she wouldn’t have been so alone in the world.

“Detective Sawyer!”

She jumps at the sound of her own name, spotting Veronica. The 17 year old saunters towards her with a baseball bat over her shoulder and a National City Tigers snapback twisted to the side. She gives Maggie a one thousand watt smile.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming back to visit ever again.”

Maggie’s cheeks roast with guilt. “Just got busy, is all. Police work ain’t all donuts and spilt coffee.”

Veronica swings the bat down, kicking it with her toe. “Jason and I got burritos out of that place on Fair County Drive last week.” She peeks at Maggie suspiciously. “Saw you coming out of the apartment block across the street.” 

Maggie slips her hands into her back pockets.  _ I’ve been rumbled by at 17 year old kid.  _ “Good eye.”

“Was that a donuts and spilt coffee kinda visit, or a regular police work kinda visit?” 

Maggie’s cheeks grow even redder. She isn’t used to being on this side of an interrogation. “Good burritos in that place?”

Veronica flashes a victorious grin. “Isn’t that where your ex used to live?”

Maggie grabs the snapback off her head and plants it on straight, tugging the brim for good measure. “You’re such a little smartass, you know that?” 

Veronica props the bat back on her shoulder again. “Taught by the best.”

Rolling her eyes as they take the steps together, Maggie notices the grin hasn’t faded. “Hey, you got to keep that attitude in check if you wanna be a cop.”

“Like you do?” 

“I’m a detective. I can flaunt the attitude now.”

When they reach the doors, Veronica gently grasps her elbow. “Um, I don’t really want to interfere. But I think Steph is off her meds, so like, if you could talk to her maybe? She’s pretty down recently. All she wants to do is sit in the rec room and play guitar.” 

Maggie dips her chin. “I’ll see what I can do.”

She enters reception, where a grey haired woman behind the counter doesn’t even notice her come in. She meanders to the desk, leaning against the edge, and clears her throat. The woman’s head snaps up.

“Stranger!” she shrieks, jumping up and yanking Maggie into a fierce hug. “Where have you been?”

Maggie chuckles, awkwardly patting her back. “I’ve been a little all over the place these past few months, Linda. I’m sorry I didn’t get around in the New Year.”

Linda leans back, rubbing Maggie’s biceps through her jacket and appraising her like a relative she hasn’t seen in a long time. She hums during her assessment. “Yes, well, Veronica did tell me about seeing you last week.”

Maggie groans. “That girl needs to stop gossiping her mouth off if she wants to be a cop one day.”

Linda hands her a clipboard and a pen, and after scribbling to start the dried ink, she signs herself in. She taps the pen on the edge of the clipboard while she waits for Linda to fish a visitor’s pass out of the crowded drawer. 

There are guitar strings being thrummed from the rec room to her right, and she knows at once that it’s Stephanie. 

“Maybe don’t leave it so long next time,” Linda scolds, swinging the badge. 

Maggie pins the badge to the pocket of her shirt. She makes her way over to the rec room, listening to the patterns of notes breezing up and down scales. She peers inside, seeing the girl with an acoustic balanced on her lap. 

She knocks lightly on the doorframe. “Hey, Steph.”

Steph looks up in surprise, the music cutting off with her palm on the strings. “Hey, Detective Sawyer.”

Maggie points to the chair opposite her. “Can I sit?”

“Sure,” Steph replies, shifting back a few inches. 

There are handwritten pages all over the floor, yellowed by age and curled at the edges, and Maggie avoids stepping on them as she sits down. 

“Songwriting?” she asks, waving at the paper.

“Trying to remember how they go,” Steph mutters, thumbing the low string and adjusting the tone at the head of the guitar. It slides down out of tune and then back up. “So, you’re back with your ex?”

Maggie blinks. “Do you kids share everything?”

“Gossip travels like wildfire in a place like this.” Steph gives her a shy smile. “We all just really care about you. We want you to be as happy as you’ve made us.”

Maggie scratches the back of her head. “Yeah, well, between you and me, my head and my heart aren’t really agreeing on what’s gonna make me happy, right now.”

Steph stutters out a laugh as she moves up a string, retuning it. Getting the trust of the girl had been difficult, but once the initial nerves faded, they clicked.

“How about you play some of that classical flamenco stuff?” 

Steph adjusts the guitar on her knees. Her fingertips dust the fretboard, skittering here and there before settling. She bites her pick between her teeth, the tradition of plucking not requiring it.  

And she plays. Maggie marvels at how so many talented people have so many demons inside.

She had told Steph once that the musical style reminded her of home, before the darker times. Her father had a tape of the works of Isaac Albeniz that he played on repeat in the car, rewinding it over and over. It wasn’t really fitting music for the snowy Nebraska winterscapes, but he refused to change it to the popular music on the radio. 

“How you really doing?” she asks softly.

Steph continues playing the phrases over and over, and Maggie isn’t sure that she is going to answer at all. And then; “I don’t know where my head is.”

“I can relate to that. Every since the morning with the red sky, I’ve been feeling pretty out of sorts.”

The music stops. “Is that why you’re back with your ex?”

Maggie struggles against the smile that breaks through. “Hey, maybe.” She rubs her palms on her knees, thinking about Alex. “This is gonna sound so weak, trust me, but it’s gonna get better, okay?”

Steph rests the guitar flat on her knees. “Are you trying to get me to take my meds? Cause I hate them. I’d rather feel pain than nothing at all.”

“I’m not trying to make you do anything. I'm just trying to offload some hope.”

The girl picks up the guitar again. “You know, you’re kinda everyone’s hero around here.”

“Even yours?” Steph plucks a string on her guitar instead of answering, and Maggie gets it. “No heros, Stephanie. No one’s perfect.”

“Not even Supergirl?”

“ _ Definitely _ not.”

Steph looks up at her finally, her blue eyes filled with mirth. She nods. “No heros.”

~

Later, when she reaches the address that she receives via text, she spots a jittery Alex holding a corner table. Slipping into the chair opposite her, she sets the boundaries straight away.

“Hey, I know we said we would have that talk, but do you mind if we just enjoy lunch today? I had a pretty heavy morning at the centre.” She ran her palm over the back of her neck. “I mean, I love those kids. But it brought up a lot of stuff for me. I just…”

Alex relaxes, nodding. “Can I just ask one thing?”

Maggie nods, taking off her jacket and putting it over the back of her chair.

“Is this a date?”

“Well, since we haven’t done anything like this outside of getting late night coffee together and meeting at crime scenes...” Maggie says, giving ground. “Or the time you brought everyone in SciDiv burgers after we cracked that long case for you guys. Thank you, by the way.”

“And all the um…” Alex’s eyebrows pinch together. “Bed sharing.”

_ You say that like sleeping is all we do. _

“That’s putting it mildly, Danvers.” Maggie shimmies her cutlery out of its napkin, and then lays the napkin over her lap. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve never really done...this before. The casual-”

A waitress breezes up to their table, interrupting Alex’s admittance. She takes their lunch order and brings them two tall glasses of ice water.

Alex braces her elbows on the table. “I never asked you what it was like, delivering a baby.”

“I didn’t think I could do it, until I did.” Maggie pinches the lemon from Alex’s water and plops it into her own. “But you’ve done that, right? Didn’t you do some training for your MD/PhD?”

“Sure. I did it on Wanda the plastic dummy. That’s not the real thing.” Alex takes a sip of water, ice jingling. She squints like she’s remembering something. “I mean, for starters I’m sure her baby’s cries weren’t being played on a computer loop.”

Maggie chuckles. “Oh, no they weren’t.”

“So?” Alex says.

“Messy. And scary. I didn’t think it would be so quick. Maybe she’d been in a painful labour for the entire time I was trying to talk sense into those aliens. If that’s the case, maybe I should buy her a fruit basket as an apology.”

“I really don’t think that woman wants you to apologise, Maggie. You delivered her baby in a bank, while Supergirl made a mess of the architexture.”

Maggie snorts. “Yeah, she did. I had to wash my hair twice to get all the plaster out.”

The waitress brings them their open sandwiches. Alex makes a face at Maggie’s lunch, and then waves her fork for her to continue.

“Seeing her with her newborn daughter was…” She catches the hint of glee in Alex’s eye. “I haven’t changed my mind on kids.”

“I didn’t ask if you had.” 

It is the first time either of them had mentioned kids, and their breakup by proxy, and Maggie wonders if she wades into these waters, will her feet still be able to touch the bottom? They had agreed to nothing serious, nothing heavy, but here she is about to voice a question that went beyond casual curiosity.

“Would you really wanna go through that? The pregnancy and birth and…”

Midway through cutting into her food, Alex almost sends the entire plate skidding off the table. 

“Do you, uh, really want to talk about that?”

Maggie swallows with a long, cool burst of water. Appreciating Alex’s concern about respecting the set boundaries, she shakes her head. “You’re right.”

They eat in silence for a minute or so, revelling in the company and letting the mood settle again. Then Alex speaks so casually, that Maggie has to watch the stiff movements of her hands to tell that she is nervous: 

“You know, I never took any time off since the fight with the Hedozian. I have a lot of vacation time saved, and I’m willing to bet that you do too.”

Maggie recalls the conversation in the helicopter, when she had joked about their honeymoon. She can tell that this is where Alex is angling. “Are you asking to go away on a dirty weekend, Danvers?”

Usually so brazen in other aspects of her life, Maggie rejoices in the occasions when Alex is timid, because they are such private moments. She knows this proposition would be stepping somewhat beyond the current unspoken arrangement that they have now. 

“You and me up in the mountains, a little cabin by the lake, walks through the forest,” Alex says quietly. “It isn’t tempting?”

“I think you’re more excited for the nights by the fire.”

“It’ll be much too hot for that.” Alex catches herself, quickly correcting; “The temperature, I mean.” 

“No cabin fever with all the snow?”

Alex takes the time to chew a few bites of her sandwich, and Maggie knows she’s letting her stew for a second, before shyly prompting, “Well?”

“Let me see what my situation is, and I’ll get back to you.” Maggie shakes her head when Alex grins down at her plate. “That isn’t a definite yes.”

Alex looks up through her eyelashes. “But it’s not a definite no, either.”

 

**_Passion_ **

Spring is in the air when they drive up the coast to spend a long weekend away from the pressures of their world. 

They had made plans like this before, half-hearted promises about going camping, or renting a place in the mountains. They were always too sunk in work to seek the freedom of nature.

Maggie follows Alex up the steep path, their boots crunching at the stones underfoot. While they occasionally break up the monotony with small talk, they lapse into relative silence. Instead, she listens to the tweets above them, and their own laboured breathing as they hike.

She adjusts her watch, the sweat making it slip over the bone of her wrist. How is it that when they were together, they didn’t get five minutes to escape the city, and yet here they are now? Together in the wilderness, in the physical sense, if not the emotional one. 

“Maggie?”

“Yeah, Danvers?”

Alex shoves her sunglasses up on top of her head, turning her face up to the sunshine. “Do you ever think about our first time?”

Maggie loses her footing, stumbling slightly. She bores holes into the back of Alex’s backpack. “Sometimes. Why?”

Alex slows as they reach the top of the path. “Because sometimes I do, too.”

They enter a wide clearing, the trees running away from them on either side, ringing around a blue lake. Maggie drifts forward, slipping her water from the side of her backpack and replenishing herself after a punishing ascent. Alex does the same, and then props her hands on her hips. 

“It’s beautiful,” she says, unloading her backpack and dropping it at her feet. She moves up a jutting piece of rock.

Maggie shrugs her bag onto one shoulder, unzipping the main compartment and rifling around for the mandarins she had packed this morning. 

Alex tips her head towards the water. “Swim?”

“I’m good,” Maggie says, seating herself on the rock. “Who knows what nasty things swim in there?”

“Oh, no fun,” Alex complains. Then she strips at such a measured pace that Maggie swears she is doing it on purpose.

Stretching and shaking out her limbs, Alex peers over the edge of the rock. Maggie digs her thumb into the peel of the mandarin, smelling the initial burst of its scent, as she trails her eyes over Alex’s bare legs. 

_ Our first time, you were trying so hard not to be nervous...  _

“I say it’s only twenty feet to the water from here,” Alex notes, looking over her shoulder. 

“You’re gonna jump it?” Maggie asks, concern rising as she tears off strips of the orange peel. “There could be shallow water there.”

Alex shakes her head, unbuckling her watch and laying it on the pile of clothes. “Look at the shape of the lake,” she instructs, pointing at the slope of the forest on either side. “It gets deepest on our side. The shore is over there.”

“Aren’t lakes deeper in the middle?”

“Crater lakes are.” She wiggles her toes. “I’m going to take my chances.”

Maggie watches her bend over, and with perfect form, dive into the water with a mighty splash. Revealing the fruit in her hands, Maggie splits it into its pieces, and pops one in her mouth.

Sitting in the sunshine, listening to the birds and the faint sloshes of Alex swimming below, Maggie is hit with the full force of how surreal this experience is. She isn’t even sure why she agreed to come here, to spend a weekend away from the city with her ex-fiancee, except that she  _ wanted _ to. 

Ever since the Hedozian, they have been entangled, and both of them are at fault for not putting a name to it. She is halved between her head, which longs to be in a healthy place, and her heart, which wants to be with Alex. She has let her heart reign over her actions for two months. 

She lifts the final orange piece to her mouth when her train of thought crashes to a stop. 

It is far too quiet. 

She waits to hear the sound of Alex swimming, but there’s nothing. 

“Alex?” Maggie stands, eyes darting across the surface of the lake. She cups her hands over her mouth and yells, “Alex?” 

From the outcrop of rock, Maggie spots the ripples in the otherwise calm lake.  _ Shit _ . She whips her shirt over her head, throwing open her belt and shoving her jeans down her thighs, only just halting to kick off her shoes and socks. 

She doesn’t hesitate, diving off of the end of the rock into the water, pushing herself as far out as possible before rising up to the surface. She treads, taking stock of how far away Alex is, and then sets to work, cutting through the water towards her. About ten feet away, she ducks under and sees Alex struggling. She urges closer, grabbing Alex around the waist from behind.

Alex thrashes against her, but Maggie steels herself and yanks her to the surface 

_ Stop panicking. Stop fighting me. _

They break through, both of them sucking in lungfuls of air. Maggie makes for the shore, Alex getting her bearings enough to help get them there.

When they reach dry land, gasping and crawling onto the shore, Maggie kneels beside her, but Alex pushes her away. A whole palm-shove that leaves Maggie both sympathetic and dejected. She lets Alex have a little more space, shifting from her haunches to sit and stretch her legs out. 

Those birds chirp overhead, seemingly agitated. Maggie looks up and is reminded of the crows around the DEO the night before Alex got the mark. 

After a few minutes of Alex gazing off at the lake, struggling to her her breath back, she speaks.

“I’m a strong swimmer.”

“I know.”

Without looking, Alex reaches a hand over, and Maggie takes it. “I thought I was over this.” 

Maggie watches fat drops of water seep from the ends of Alex’s hair, slipping over pale skin and down, down, down over the curve of her shoulder blade.

“I just got into the deeper part and when I went underwater, I froze.” Alex finally turns to look at her. “You jumped in and saved me.” 

“Of course.” Maggie traces the black tattoo on her forearm. “I’d never let you drown, Alex.”

“I’m sorry for pushing you away I-” Alex hangs her head. “This was humiliating.”

“Hey, it was me who had all the nightmares, remember?”

Alex’s gaze is intense. Clearly, she does remember. “I’m just not used to being this pathetic.” She drops her shoulders. “Remember I told you that when I was 11, that girl Becky from across the street broke her leg? I wished every day that it would heal faster so she could come outside and play again. That’s how I feel now.”

Maggie uses her free hand to smooth over her slick, wet hair. “You have to give it time to heal, Alex. You’ll only keep hurting yourself if you don’t.”

Alex nods, looking out across the lake. Maggie bumps their shoulder together. 

“Now, if you’re good, I’ll let you have one of my oranges.”

~

The lengthening days and mild temperatures mean that they don’t have to start a fire. Either way, they have plenty of heat between them. 

Maggie is disappointed that she can’t get to watch the firelight dance over the sinewy muscles of Alex’s body, but she settles for the slats of hazy evening sunshine making sweat glisten on bare skin.

With as much grace as she can muster, Alex tumbles onto her back beside Maggie, chest heaving. Maggie watches her shuffle down so they’re shoulder to shoulder. 

“We didn’t do that a lot when we were together,” Alex says, abashed even as her eyes are wild. 

Maggie crosses her legs at the ankles, still feeling the thrill of Alex straddling her mouth. “You were always too shy.”

Alex drifts her fingertips over her own stomach. “Not always,” she mumbles.

Maggie sits up, stretching her arms above her head and then standing. She reaches for the two red tartan throws on the couch. She takes one and throws the other to Alex. 

“Thirsty?”

“Parched, actually.”

“I wonder why,” Maggie deadpans, winking in her direction as she wraps the throw around her like a long bath-towel. 

The cabin’s wooden floors are cold under her feet as she goes into the kitchen. Standing on her tiptoes and rifling through the cupboards, she finds only mugs, no glasses, and decides with a sigh that that will have to do. 

Arms wrap around her from behind as she goes to the sink, a warm body pressed against her back. She runs the water, flittering her fingers underneath the stream until it cools enough, and then filling up the mugs. 

“Nice view,” Alex murmurs, tracing her fingertips over the tuck of Maggie’s throw, and then over the bare skin of her cleavage.

Maggie shivers. “Oh, you think so?”

“I was talking about outside…”

The large window above the sink shows a rosewood deck, and then trees as far as she could see. (She is struck by the thought of taking Alex from behind on that deck, the sunrise casting flaming colours on their skin). 

They had taken their bikes, riding together around the bends and sloping roads out of the city, the noises fading away into peaceful solitude. It isn’t Maggie’s ideal home by any standards, but it’s her ideal getaway. She suspects Alex knew that when she rented it.

Alex snakes an arm around her, reaching for her mug and drinking greedily at the cool water. Maggie smirks at that, drinking her own. 

“Do you want to get back together? For real?”

_ There it is. _

Maggie sighs, the dreamy connection of the last day and a half breaking in her chest. She twists out of Alex’s arms, pacing across the kitchen. 

“I don’t mean straight away,” Alex rushes, running the water to refill her mug. 

Maggie gestures to their attire. “It’s a little late for taking it slow.”

Alex flushes, pulling her throw a little more securely around her shoulders. “I mean, being engaged, living together, all of that. We can put it on the backburner.” She takes a drink and then puts the mug down, waving her hands. “Try something fresh?”

The night in the DEO and the following night in Alex’s bed, Maggie had concluded, were the product of adrenaline, lust, and the need to reunite with someone they weren’t over yet. But the third night, that wasn’t adrenaline. Maggie remembers the glow of the diner only lighting half of Alex’s face, remembers the scratch of the brick behind her. It was a decision to keep kissing her.  

She remembers how it was a conscious choice to follow Alex back to her apartment. 

As was the time after that, inviting Alex for scotch after a tough day, showing off her new place, and by extension, her new bed. 

As was when Alex showed up to the precinct at her request, under the guise of FBI, when rooting through the archives ended up with one hand clutching the rung of the shelf-ladder and the other buried in Alex’s hair. 

As was the dozen times after that. 

She is not innocent, it takes the two of them to dance this way, and yet right now she grows irritated at Alex’s eyes wide open approach. 

“Where did we go so wrong, Maggie? We’re good together,” Alex says, voice edging on pleading. 

“Stop throwing this at me like it was my decision to end it.”

“It was  _ our _ decision.”

“No, it was  _ your _ decision. Our break up wasn’t mutual.” 

Alex pauses, tipping her head. “Was our getting back together?” 

“We aren’t together,” Maggie stresses. 

Alex looks down at her toes, flexing her feet and then looking up with a dark glower. “So what are you doing here, Maggie? Because you keep coming back to me. In the DEO, after the fight, and in these past weeks.” Maggie’s throat squeezes, because she’s right. “You’re the one standing in this kitchen with me.”

Alex has taken the form of a predator about to pounce, coiled and ready. The last thing Maggie needs is for this to turn into a blistering round of hate sex. That will achieve nothing, and confirm her suspicions; that they’re using sex as a distraction from their real issues. 

So she does the first thing she can think of to try and divert that intensity, because her stomach is tightening with want again. “Did you tell Kara where you were going? Who with?”

“Yes,” Alex answers easily, throwing Maggie completely.

_ Really? _

“I’m sure she had some choice words for you,” Maggie recovers.

Alex licks her lips. “I’m done living my life how others want me to. I thought you of all people would have known that.”

Maggie shakes her head. “Are you even ever sure of what  _ you _ really want?”

Alex doesn’t take the bait. “Maggie, I have never been this person. I’ve never done casual. And with you, God-” She takes a step closer, and Maggie takes a step back, jarring against the edge of the countertop. “With you, I’m nowhere near casual.”

“But you’ve had flings, right? You slept with Sara Lance.” 

Alex reels back. “What?”

“You slept with her, didn’t you?”  _ Jackpot.  _ “We talked about you, when she stitched up my head, but I could tell by the way you were acting like I’d caught your hand down her pants.”

Maggie ignores the stabbing impact she has on herself as she pushes the words out. She has never been fantastic at self care, anyway.

“I was always yours.” 

She had aimed for the low blow. But Alex’s words knock her back, making her reconsider. 

“What did you just say?”

“I was always yours,” Alex repeats, bringing them toe to toe. “Even when I was with her, I was yours.”

_ You ever had a woman call you the name of an ex in bed? _

Finally, Maggie gives in and surges into a kiss, and after a brief noise of surprise, Alex kisses her back. Strong hands reach down to grip the back of her thighs and lift her onto the counter. She gasps into Alex’s mouth at the chill, and again when those hands whip away her throw, leaving her bare.

Alex mouths along her jaw, lightly biting over her pulse, so that she stutters her next sentence.

“This doesn’t mean we’re back together.”

“Really?” Alex’s tone is lazy, as her hands pull away from Maggie’s thighs. 

Maggie tightens her grip on Alex’s shoulders. “That doesn’t mean you should stop.”

She doesn’t think she’s ever seen Alex’s eyes this dark. “Well, Sawyer, this really is turning into a dirty weekend away.”

She kisses Maggie’s neck. “A scandalous-”

She tugs the back of Maggie’s knees forward so they’re skin to skin. “-dirty-”

She spreads her thighs. “-filthy-”

Maggie’s hands curl on the counter’s edge at the hot breath in her ear. “Weekend hidden away in the mountains.”

Alex’s voice rumbles through her chest, as if they shared one ribcage. Maggie’s hands reach up to grasp again at the tartan blanket around Alex’s shoulders, legs wrapping around her lower back.

“Pot, kettle, Danvers.”

“You say we aren’t really back together but…” A hand slips between her thighs, causing her to inhale a little sharper through her nose. “Your body is saying something else altogether.”

Maggie shoots her hand down to grab Alex’s wrist at that, snarling, “Don’t push your luck.”

“It’s worked this far.” Alex grins, pushing inside her. 

And then Maggie is hers, too. 

 

**_Marriage_ **

All in all, they last a whole three months at this charade before they had to admit that yes, they were back together. 

She wakes one morning to see Alex hooking her bra and pulling on a shirt. 

“Morning,” she says, propping up to admire the view.

“I’m going to go get donuts,” Alex says, stealing a kiss before reaching for her leather jacket. “Make the coffee?”

Maggie nods and lays back in the warm sheets, listening to Alex’s boots on the hardwood floor, the keys, the door. In the morning light, she remembers dinner the night before, talking about their future, if they had a chance together again to make a real go of it. 

She gets up eventually, dressing in the handiest clothes, and then heading for the bathroom. Toothbrush hanging out of her mouth, still half asleep, she looks at herself in the mirror and searches her own features for a sign that this is all a mistake, and they’re heading for disaster. 

She has a proposition for Alex, a litmus test. She planned to bring it up last night, but they had created such a good atmosphere over dinner, that she didn’t want to risk rocking the boat.

She sighs, heading out of the bathroom for the coffee maker.

“You and Alex are back together.”

Maggie stops dead at the sight of Kara on the couch, pretending to read over some notes on her reporter pad. She looks down at herself, wearing Alex’s t-shirt and boxers, and mumbles as best she can through toothpaste.

“We are.”

“But you’ve been seeing each other again since Alex killed the Hedozian, right?” Kara flips a page. “Alex didn’t tell me, by the way. She didn’t have to.” She flips another. “I figured a weekend away was too out of the blue.”

“Very observant,” Maggie manages, retreating back to the bathroom to spit and rinse. She wipes her mouth with the edge of a towel and slouches out towards the coffeemaker. She switches it on, and faces Kara over the island. The structure in between them makes her feel a little more secure. 

Kara sets her reporter pad down, and Maggie can see she is carefully choosing her words. 

“Is this a good idea?”

“I don’t know,” Maggie replies, surprised at how quickly the honesty comes out. “But I know that I love Alex. And I think we both want another shot. If those life changing differences come back up, then we can swan song all over again.”

Kara frowns, standing up. She tucks her shirt into her trousers, neatening as she says, “That’s a horrible way to think about it.”

“No, it’s not. Look, Kara, I get it. When Alex and I slept together-” Kara winces. “-in the DEO the night before the big fight, we weren’t in the right frame of mind, but no one was. We all thought we could die the next day. What matters is it meant something to me that the person I wanted to spend my last night with was your sister. And I think it might mean something to her, too. That’s all I know so far.”

Kara chances a few steps closer. “But the issues that broke you two up…”

“We haven’t touched anything yet, not really. But we agreed that if we’re going to give this another go around, then we’re gonna work through these things together.”

Kara makes it to the island, tapping it in a gesture that Maggie guesses she picked up from Alex. “She said you saved her from drowning in a lake.”

“You say that like I would have left her to drown.”

The weight of the accusation drags them both to almost a year earlier, a twisted man and a blue tank. It also brings up the spark of friction that has always existed between them.

“I promised that I would be better this time around. That I’m going to make a better effort with you. And I will, Maggie. Just-” 

“Will you ever tell me what happened on Earth 13?”

Kara stiffens. 

The mystery of Kara and Sara’s brief disappearance following the battle in the desert had never been answered, but it had shaken Kara to the core. She was much warmer with Maggie, and in those first few interactions after their arrival in the DEO, there was something haunted in her words. 

Alex later explained to Maggie that all the information she could pry out of Kara was that she and Sara had visited Earth-13 through a rip in parallel timelines. She also knew that Earth-13’s version of herself and Alex had reached some form of a demise. 

Her intuition pointed at a very obvious answer; Kara had watched one or both of them die. 

But regardless of what specifically had happened on Earth-13, it has left a permanent scar in Kara’s mind. 

She doesn’t talk about it. Maggie doesn’t expect her to. She just sighs, adjusting her glasses. “Please, don’t hurt her.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She gathers her things, quirking her head at the door, before nodding and striding towards the open window. The curtains are still swishing this way and that when Alex comes through the door. 

“Hey, you,” she says mischievously. 

“Hey, that was quick.”

“They’ve opened a new place just around the corner. There was no queue,” Alex says, holding up the unfamiliar packaging for emphasis. “I hope they’re good.”

Maggie pulls her in by the front of her sweater, and Alex sets the box on the counter beside her, before caging her with her arms. 

“Hello,” Alex says, tone a little more husky. She presses her hips forward until Maggie is splayed against side of the island.

“Listen,” Maggie says, playing with the hem of Alex’s sweater. She enjoys the jump of muscles when the back of her knuckles accidentally brush Alex’s stomach. “You wanna be my date for a wedding next week?”

She knows this request carries baggage. Or perhaps it drops said baggage and swings on by. She isn’t sure. 

“Who’s getting married?” 

“Daniel Johnston.”

A pregnant pause, then; “Daniel Johnston is getting married?”

Maggie’s chest bursts with relief that Alex doesn’t recoil, that she’s actually thinking about it. Daniel Johnston’s friendship with Maggie goes back to the academy, and while their bond had somewhat weakened when they got promoted to different departments, he is still one of the only partners she was happy to get saddled with. 

“I know, right? SciDiv started working joint operations with organised crime, but he had a complaint made against him on a case we worked together and got busted down to a traffic coordinator.”

Alex hums, drifting fingertips along Maggie’s hairline. “What did he do?”

“Punched a racist.” She tips her head. “It’s not really NCPD policy to do that, even if we want to.”

Alex reads between the lines. “For you?”

“Yes, for me.” Maggie smirks, remembering his brazen wink even as he went into a demotion meeting with his lieutenant. “Sometimes this era-America is not pleasant.”

“Well, Mom gave me a necklace that I haven’t worn anywhere yet. It goes pretty nice with a green number in that closet over there.”

Maggie takes that as a yes. Lifting the lid of the donut box, she steals one and presses it to Alex’s smiling lips.

~

The day of the wedding arrives, the ceremony goes off without a hitch, but the reception is another story. 

Sam Greene is Daniel’s best man, also a cop who attended the academy with Maggie, but he’s been a hard drinker ever since his girlfriend left him and took his son halfway across the country. 

And now, Maggie and Daniel are staring at him, pawing at the bridesmaids and slurring comments at the passing waiters. Food isn’t ready to be served yet, the cake is uncut and the speeches aren’t done. Sam isn’t in the best emotional or physical shape to do his anyway. 

Daniel grips his champagne. “He got piss drunk. At my wedding. I’m gonna kill him.” 

“Don’t. Come on,” Maggie says, trying to be placating even though she has her own share of anger at the situation. “He’s making a fool of himself sure, but don’t let him ruin it for you and Naomi.”

“How the hell am I gonna get a best man’s speech out of him, huh? This is so fucking...typical,” he spits.

She doesn’t even think twice before she says, “I’ll do it.”

Daniel blinks, tension draining away into surprise. “Sawyer? You hate speeches.”

“It’s okay. I got this.”

“Brian Clung practically had to drag you kicking and screaming to the podium when you won that medal three years ago.”

“It’s your wedding.” 

Daniel regards her warily, but nods. “Okay, Sawyer. Let’s get Greene in a cab, and then you’re up to bat.” 

He pats her shoulder and heads towards his drunken colleague, and Maggie realises what she’s committed herself to.

~

Her hands shake, and she struggles to fill dead air in a few nervous moments, but she gets through it. She tells some stories from when they were rookies, relieved when she receives some patches of laughter in response. She toasts the bride and groom, and gets a short round of applause before she sits down.

Alex puts a hand on her thigh, grounding her.

After the meal and the first dance, Maggie goes outside to the patio to get some air, enjoying the chill. Summer is heating up the tail-end of spring during the day, and she enjoys the cooler temperatures as long as she can. 

“Nice speech, Sawyer.” 

Maggie smooths down her dress as Daniel joins her outside, his hands in his pockets. 

“Thanks. Couldn’t let you go without some embarrassing stories in front of your in-laws.”

“Ah, they were tame and you know it,” Daniel replies, toeing a crack in the patio. He looks out at the slope of the valley outside of the hotel boundaries. “Is it heavy for you two, being here?”

“Not as bad as I thought it was gonna be. I’m actually having a great time with her, context considered,” Maggie replies honestly. 

“You’re back on, I guess?” He grins at Maggie’s nod. “I never knew Maggie Sawyer to get back with an ex.”

At the other side of the ballroom inside, Alex having an animated conversation with Daniel’s mother. “Yeah, but Alex Danvers is more than just an ex.”

His grin only widens. “Figured.”

Just then, Alex turns from the conversation and meets Maggie’s eyes across the sea of tipsy cops dancing to mid-90s pop. She wiggles her fingers in a small wave, and Maggie nods back, not fighting the huge smile that grows.

“I think that’s my cue to leave.”

She hears Daniel call out behind her: “Don’t go giving her those massive romantic heart eyes if you dance with her. You’ll upstage my slow dance with Naomi.”

She weaves through the crowd and then bumps Alex’s hip with her own. 

“Sorry to cut in,” Maggie says, holding out her hand. “May I have this dance?”

Alex smiles in that same wholesome way she did when Maggie had sprung the Valentine’s prom, like she wears her heart on her sleeve. “Absolutely.”

And as they reach the dance floor, the song transitions into something slower, and they become lost in the crowd, and in each other.

“You hate public speaking.” Alex says, looping her arms around Maggie’s neck. “But you stepped in to do that speech at the last minute.” 

“Yeah. My hands were shaking so bad." Maggie tugs her a little closer. “Hope I didn’t disappoint.”

“You just can’t help but save the day, Miss Sawyer.”

“You’re one to talk, Miss Danvers.”

The coloured lights glaze over their skin. The buzz from the pompous and champagne make her blood sing. Wrapped up in each other on a day like this, Maggie finally allows herself one moment to indulge; wondering if there was a chance they could still make it  _ Mrs _ Danvers.

 

**_Children_ **

Four months together again officially (and seven below the belt), and Maggie wakes up to Alex with her laptop propped on her knees, reading a philosophy article.

“Isn’t it a bit early for heavy reading,” Maggie grumbles, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. 

“It’s never too early for heavy reading,” Alex replies, tapping down on her laptop for punctuation.

Maggie peers over her elbow to read the title. “Huh. I thought it was gonna be something sciency. That’s pretty core academic for you, isn’t it?”

Alex finally turns her attention to Maggie. “Are you saying my intelligence only applies to certain fields of study?” 

“I’m saying that it’s 8:30am on your day off, and you could switch that big brain off and snore a little longer.” Maggie nuzzles at the forearm closest to her, laying a kiss on the black crow tattoo. She peppers slow kisses up Alex’s bicep, over her shoulder and collarbone and then her neck, inching up.

“Maggie…” 

She sits up, the sheet falling away as she smacks the laptop lid shut.

“Hey!” Alex protests. “I was reading about the merits of considering myself to be at least half-”

“Alien, I get it. We can have a great conversation over brunch with Lucy, James and Kara.”

_ But that body is all human. And a fine body it is. _

Maggie carefully lifts the laptop from Alex’s lap and puts it on the floor. “I have a better idea of how to switch your brain off.”

“You know, you can’t  _ actually _ switch the brain off -” Alex gasps as Maggie’s lips close around one of her nipples, teeth gently teasing it. “- i-it’s just not possible. I mean, if you consider what we know about neurology, technically,  _ oh _ -” Maggie’s tongue has made it as far as Alex’s navel, dipping inside for just a second. “- the chemicals-”

“Hey Danvers?” Maggie murmurs, spreading Alex’s knees with firm hands.

“Y-Yes, Maggie?”

“You gonna let me go down on you or not?” 

~

Picking up the post from the box on their way to Noonan’s, Maggie pauses at a pink envelope with her name handwritten on it. She flips it over, but there’s no indication of the sender. 

Alex trots down the rest of the stairs towards her. “I like your apartment, Maggie, but the fact you insist on taking four flights just because it’s downwards might be an issue.”

Maggie shows her the envelope as Alex stops beside her. Her eyes bug. “Did I...no, your birthday isn’t for another three weeks!”

“I wanted to know if you recognised the writing,” Maggie says, smirking.

“Oh!” Alex collects herself, wringing the hair out from where it’s trapped in her jacket collar. “Good because I have some ideas, some plans, some...things.”

Maggie shoves the rest of her mail back into the box, intending to come back and get it when they return from brunch, but slips the pink envelope into her pocket. 

“You aren’t going to open it?”

“We’re already late. I’ll open it when we get there.” 

Alex mutters behind her: “We would have been there earlier if you’d kept your hands to yourself.”

~

Maggie holds out until after they eat, and are enjoying a discussion about their part-time jobs as teens, until she opens the envelope. In between James complaining about valet work and Kara mumbling about being fired because she got too overwhelmed with the fast pace of a cafe, Lucy nudges her elbow. 

“So...you gonna fiddle with that envelope in your pocket all day, or actually take it out and open it?”

Maggie glares at her, but gives in. When Alex agrees to go and pay the bill, she slips it out of her pocket. 

Inside the envelope is a thank you letter from Karen, and an invitation to the christening of her baby girl, Katlyn. Something pure bubbles up inside, warm and glowing. So rare is it in her line of work that Maggie gets to help someone in that way. 

Of course, it doesn’t last long, because as soon as Lucy glimpses it under the table enough to ascertain the meaning, Maggie is outed, the letter snatched from her grasp and passed around.

“I can’t believe that I missed you delivering a baby!”

Maggie looks at James aghast. “You’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?”

Kara blushes. “Sorry. I went to visit him in his recovery room straight after it happened and I couldn’t help but let it all pour out.”

“Very excitedly, may I add,” Lucy says, and then quirks her head. “I mean, it is pretty impressive.” 

Maggie glares at Lucy as she passes the letter to Kara. “It was also months ago...”

“I’ll say,” agrees James, glossing over Maggie’s dismissal. “But what’s more impressive is the fact that you convinced Alex to pay for everyone’s lunch. What did you do?”

“Who said I did anything?”

Lucy wiggles her eyebrows, and they all turn to stare at Alex at the counter.

Her phone buzzes; an informant. 

“Oh, uh, sorry. I gotta take this,” she says, grateful for the exit. 

She heads for the bathrooms, answering even as she’s checking the stalls to make sure she’s alone. 

“Sawyer.”

It’s a brief confirmation of some information she already had, but when she tries to recall the location she was told originally, she stumbles over the address. She hangs up and stares at herself in the mirror above the sink. 

Ever since her head injury, there have been stuttering moments like this. Nothing majorly serious, but enough to make her flush every time. She hates other people’s pity. While it has not affected her work life yet, the fear niggles at her every so often.

When Maggie comes back from the bathroom, she sees that James has hung back. Alex, Kara and Lucy are talking outside the entrance to the restaurant. 

She furrows her brow. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” James says. “Ballgame on Saturday?”

Maggie relaxes her shoulders. “Sure, sounds like a day out.” 

“I’m buying your hotdog.” They start drifting towards the others. “Consider it a thank you for saving my life.”

Maggie scoffs. “In that case are you buying the entire DEO surgical staff hotdogs, too?”

James softens, glancing at Lucy once before taking a deep breath. “Actually, you kept me alive long enough to make it to the operating table. You kept me awake. I’m grateful for that, Maggie.”

“I got thrown to the ground and my head cracked like an egg. I hardly think that’s heroic.” 

James stops walking, and turns more fully towards Maggie. “I don’t mean this in a bad way, but please take the compliment. You were a little badass, alright?”

Maggie’s mouth twitches, but she gives in. “Less of the little, Olsen.”

~

Alex walks slowly as she reads the letter in her hands. Maggie glances at her every few steps, sure that Alex has read it more than once before she finally folds it along with the invitation back into the envelope.

“You’re amazing,” she says, sneaking a kiss on the cheek. 

Maggie can’t help the childish blush that rises on her cheeks. She isn’t one that panders after people’s approval, but hearing the pride reinforcing Alex’s voice triggers that same pure warmth as before.

Alex hooks an arm over Maggie’s shoulder, and they walk a few feet further when they’re halted by a cry of pain. They look around, and then at each other. Then they hear it again. Standing at the mouth of an alley, they hear a third, fourth, fifth cry echoing up the walls. 

They track the whimpering to an open dumpster. Maggie stands on her tiptoes, spotting a white tote bag inside.

“Gimme a boost, Danvers.”

Alex snaps her attention to her. “You’re getting in the dumpster?”

Maggie rolls up her sleeves. “Sure.” Alex looks unconvinced, and she chuckles. “I’m a cop, Danvers. You think I haven’t had to do this dozens of times?”

Alex still seems wary, but she kneels down and cups her hands together. Maggie uses the step up to climb into the dumpster. Gingerly, she picks up the white tote bag, stirring up the fearful whimpering inside. 

She cradles the little bundle in her arms, carefully opening the top of the sack to reveal a tiny, furry pup. She guesses it would be white, if it wasn’t so filthy. It trembles in her arms. 

“Hey there,” she cooes. “How did you get left in here?”

Alex peers over the edge of the dumpster. “What is it?”

“It’s a puppy.” Maggie cautiously runs her fingertips over the small head, big brown eyes peeking up at her, afraid. 

Maggie hands the bag over to Alex before hoisting herself out. She dusts herself down, making a face at the miscellaneous muck on her boots. She catches the adoration in Alex’s eyes, the gentleness of her fingertips as she tickles under the pup’s chin. 

“Here,” Alex says, handing the pup back to Maggie and then turning away as she pulls out her phone. 

“Where are you going?” Maggie asks. “We can’t just leave them here.”

“I wasn’t suggesting it. I’m gonna google the nearest vet, but I’m just not getting signal in here.”

Alex waves her phone, and then returns to the mouth of the alley. Maggie takes the time to check out the dog. It’s clearly a mongrel, and it has some dried blood around one of its forepaws. It holds it curled away, taking sharp breaths. 

When Alex comes back, Maggie nods down at the pup. “They’re hurt.”

Alex frowns, bending her knees and carefully touching the small pads of the paw. She makes a noise in her throat, and then something surreal occurs; her eyes begin to mist over with a grey colour. 

Maggie doubletakes. “Alex, your eyes.”

“What?” Alex straightens up again, and her eyes fade back to normal. “What’s wrong?”

“They-”

The pup whines in Maggie’s arms, squirming uncomfortably, and she loosens her grip.

Alex, puzzled, carries on. “There’s a vet about two blocks from here. I don’t know if they take walk-ins without an appointment, but we can try it?”

~

They keep their tiny, furry find. They call her Snowy, not Gertrude.

 

**_Death_ **

Almost a year since the fight, and Maggie faces death once again. Daniel’s new case is a trial for him being reinstated as detective, and she is eager to make the transition back up the ranks as smooth as possible.

Spinning the wheel of the cruiser as they breeze through the city, Maggie grins. “I’m gonna treat you like a rookie today.”

Daniel grunts. “So, like shit?”

“Like a rookie, I said.”

“Like shit then. I’ve already gotten you breakfast and coffee today. Am I getting your lunch and shining your boots for you, too?” He grips the handlebar above his head, cursing Maggie’s driving under his breath. “It’s this place on the left.”

“Just the boots. You’re lucky I like you, Johnston.” She pulls the cruiser to a stop and kills the engine. 

He chuckles, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Gee, thanks Sawyer.”

They get out and scrutinize the abandoned warehouse. Weeds are knee-height the whole way around the red brick building, and they coast away from each other as they both find things to note. Eventually, she stops in front of large firedoor, which is chained closed.

“Hey look at this,” she calls. She bends down to get a closer look at the heavy lock as he trudges through the overgrown greenery.

“A fire door chained shut?” he remarks, picking up the thick links for a second before letting them fall, hammering against the wooden door. 

Maggie takes in the rusty locks, and then shrugs, standing again. “Maybe it’s to stop kids going into dangerous buildings.”

“Oh, but us poor cops can?” he says, winding his way through the brambles to the fire escape. He looks up at it suspiciously. “Something about this doesn’t feel right.”

She laughs, nipping on ahead of him. It takes two jumps, but she latches onto the bottom of the ladder and yanks it down. “What? You don’t have a sense of adventure?”

“You’ve been hanging around your FBI girlfriend too long. Or is she your ex again? I can’t tell with you.”

Maggie chuckles, mounting the fire escape and climbing. When they reach the first landing, she pulls her torch, clicking it on, and keeping her firearm handy. She slips one leg into an open window, and then ducks into the dark. She waves her torch around, keeping her wits about her. 

Daniel comes up behind her. “You wanna start downstairs behind the fire door?”

“I think you do, because of your gut instinct,” she says knowingly, searching for a set of stairs. “Or your indigestion. Either one.”

He snickers behind her, letting her lead the way as they crouch under a sagging stretch of ceiling. She reaches the steps, and starts her descent.

It is supposed to be a routine daytime search of an abandoned property, somewhere that a suspect could be using as a hideout. The information Maggie was given was that the suspect was guaranteed to be gone during the morning hours.

What they don’t bargain on is walking into the alien equivalent of a drug-cooking lab. 

Daniel slowly waves his torch around. “Oh shit.”

Maggie steps into the center of the room, arcing her torch beam around her. “My CI told me that our suspect could be holed up here. Nothing about a lab.”

“Should we get narcotics down here?”

She examines some of the lettering on a glass cylinder. “They’re just gonna see it’s an alien operation and bounce it back to us.”

They circle around to meet at the far end of the room, where there’s a large bronze furnace. The caged door is ajar, and Maggie opens it wider with the end of her torch. Inside confirms her worst fears; four separated pools of coloured liquid. 

“It’s a Supernova furnace, isn’t it?” he asks. 

“Yup,” she sighs. “That blows another case of mine wide open.” She inches the door closed again. “We busted a few sellers downtown last week, but if our suspect is a cooker then the cases might be related.”

Supernova is a compound of potent alien imports. Maggie had been trying to coordinate more busts on smuggling rings, and while she doesn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, she is wary of this find.

The brewery process is extremely dangerous. Just as red phosphorus can be explosive when mishandled, the elements that made up Supernova could not mix before they were treated, otherwise the results could be chaotic.

They wander around the rest of the lab, inspecting the glass bottles and tubes looping over burners and flasks. Maggie frowns as she notices wires crisscrossing along the desks. She follows its tracks with her torch light. 

She recognises this circuit, this layout. The design isn’t familiar, but the set up is. She taps her thumb against the end of her torch in thought. Something about Alex showing her their storeroom of confiscated things from rogue aliens...raids on warehouses, busted operations...

It twigs; Alex wanted to show her this type of set up because she was worried about SciDiv running into any operations involving these expensive substances. The owners of such chemicals would set up traps to prevent their product from being stolen-

_ It’s a protection trap. _

She spins around and sees her colleague curiously reaching for one of the purple vials. “Wait, Daniel, don’t-!”

She’s thrown through the air in a blistering explosion-

~

The lab is in flames. 

Maggie wheezes once, twice, clutching her ribs. Sweat slicks her skin as she gets her bearings. Broken glasses glitters around her, unknown chemicals pooling in every direction.

_ Oh no, this is not how I go out. _

She rolls onto her stomach, crawling forward on her elbows and knees under the black, billowing plumes of smoke. She covers her head at a falling plank, and crying out as it strikes down on her shoulder. It singes through her shirt, burning her skin before she manages to push it off of her.

_ Like hell am I going out in a burning alien meth lab.  _

The furnace at the other end of the room creaks, and Maggie realises two things at once. The first; any minute now, the chemicals inside the furnace will mix and blow the thing to pieces, ripping through the room. The second; the fire department are not going to get here in time.

_ I’m not gonna die, cause Alex and I are going to dinner tonight. _

It becomes her mantra as she ducks under tables and over heaps of smouldering debris. She sees Daniel, prone underneath a beam. Flames lick the top of the wood.

“Daniel!” she shouts over the roar of the fire, getting closer. “Hey, Johnston!”

“Sawyer,” he groans. “Sawyer, my legs are trapped.”

She gets on her knees, flexes out her hands for damage, and then grips the bottom of the beam. It’s hot, scalding her palms, and she yanks them away after only a few seconds. 

Daniel reaches out with the arm not pinned and grabs Maggie’s shin. “Leave me here, Sawyer! Go get help!”

“Like hell I’m leaving you here,” she yells, the blaze crackling around them. His hand squeezes around her shin. “I was at your wedding, Johnston. You think I’m gonna look your wife in the face and tell her I left you in here?” 

She tries again, hoisting the beam far enough to land below Daniel’s feet, and then stumbles as a ripping kind of pain shudders through her. She splutters at the thick waft of scorching smoke she inhales. Throwing herself back down onto her stomach, she crawls towards Daniel’s head.

The way towards the staircase is blocked. Getting into a crouch, Maggie grits her teeth, hooking her arms underneath Daniel’s armpits and dragging him a few feet. The exertion burns her stomach and lungs. She begins to hear sirens outside.

The creaking furnace tells her their wails are just  _ not close enough _ . 

She gasps out puffs of breath, her lungs protesting at the sweltering heat as she drags Daniel a few more feet, and then a few more, taking brief moments of respite. 

His head rolls on his shoulders. “Maggie, if you die in here with me, I’m gonna kick your ass in heaven,” he shouts, moaning at each jerk of his broken legs. 

“Firstly, don’t assume I’m going anywhere but hell, Johnston,” she retaliates, pulling him a little further. She pauses to wipe the sweat off her brow and out of her eyelashes. “And secondly, that furnace is gonna blow and I’m not going to a funeral where the coffin is filled with  _ bits  _ of someone that I care about.” 

But the furnace does blow. 

Maggie barely has enough time to dive around a brick pillar before sharpnel pummels the room in a fiery burst. She uncurls her legs from where she had tucked herself into a ball, seeing Daniel jerking slightly. Three thick bronze chunks are embedded in his chest.

“Daniel?” she asks, more frightened than she has heard herself in a long time. 

He doesn’t answer, choking. With a surge, she shoots up and wraps her arms under his armpits again, dragging with renewed vigor. They reach it to the fire door, but the metal is jammed.

“No, come on.  _ Come on _ .” She kicks out with both her feet, then her shoulder, then her hip again and again, buckling the old rusty hinges. With a final scream of frustration, she smacks her boot against the doors. “Come on!” 

They swing open, and Maggie squints against the sunlight to see two firemen with bolt cutters.  _ Of course. The lock from outside.  _

Maggie gasps in the fresh air as she takes Daniel the rest of the way clear of the fire door, letting go. She staggers away as Daniel drops, paramedics swarming him. 

Someone is charging towards her. She gets close enough to catch their eyes-  _ grey eyes again?- _ but she loses her balance.

“Woah, Maggie.”

She’s dropping. Suddenly, an arm is around the backs of her knees and another is under her shoulders and she’s cradled in someone’s arms. 

“Medic!” they yell, then murmur in her ear; “Easy, Maggie. Just breathe.”

~

She wakes up in the DEO, her throat screaming. 

There’s an oxygen mask over her face, and as she lifts her arm to inspect a perceived heaviness, she sees a cast. She lets it fall back to her side. She listens to the beep of her own monitors, to her own breath huffing into the plastic mask.

As soon as Alex walks into the room, she reaches up to take off the oxygen mask, startling the agent. And in the dark circles on her girlfriend’s face, Maggie  _ knows. _

“You’re awake.” 

Alex’s eyes glaze grey, just like they did that day in the alley, just like when she saw Maggie after the fire. Maggie wants to ask what the hell is going on, but her mouth is so dry.

“Water?” she croaks.

Alex spins, grabbing a side table and wheeling it closer to the bed. She fills a cup with water from a steel flask, and then gives it to Maggie, who shivers with relief.

“You’ve been out for about 20 hours,” Alex explains, and Maggie hears her buying time. “You twisted your wrist joints, you’ve sustained some fractures to your ribs and you have some minor burns. There is one third degree burn on your shoulder-”

“How did you know? To come?” She hands Alex the cup. 

“We monitor the waves for all emergencies. We weren’t sure if there were aliens or civilians inside since it was supposedly abandoned, but then your cruiser was identified outside.” Alex refills the cup. Maggie sees her hands trembling. “Since we got together, your badge number gets flagged up in the DEO system. I got there as soon as I could.”

Maggie takes the water, drinking it down a little slower than the first glass. “You carried me here damsel in distress style, huh?”

Stricken, Alex looks away. “Maggie-”

“I’m sorry about dinner. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Once I get these ribs unwrapped.”

_ Don’t say it. Please- _

Alex’s eyes shines with tears as she carefully puts a hand on her cast. “Maggie, Daniel died of his injuries in National City General last night. I’m so, so sorry.”

Maggie closes her eyes, sinking back into the DEO pillows. 

“He knew he was gonna die. I just...wanted Naomi to be able to bury her husband. I knew the chemicals in the furnace would mix and it would blow and those things are like  _ bombs _ on a good day, y’know?”

She thinks she might still be in shock. 

By the agonising look on Alex’s face, she thinks she might be right. 

“Maggie.” 

“I just, I tried to get him out. But it wasn’t-”  She chokes, great gasping sobs forcing their way up her chest and throat. “It just wasn’t  _ enough _ .”

Alex melts, embracing her as much as she can as she breaks, feeling more defeated and scattered than she has ever felt in all her time on the police force.

“He was my friend, and he never let me down. And I let him down, Alex.”

“Maggie, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

At some point, Alex practically gets on the bed with her, but it isn’t close enough. 

It’s never enough.

 

**_Peace_ **

The morning of Daniel Johnston’s funeral, Maggie wakes to peace. One hand is deep in warm fur, the other gently running the backs of her knuckles along Alex’s arm. If Snowy is irritated by Maggie’s cast, she doesn’t show it. 

Alex is still fast asleep, and Maggie is going to let her sleep on until their alarm wakes her. 

The sword is hanging on the wall, still a charcoal grey from when Alex had touched it that morning of fighting the Hedozian. She heard the tale from some overzealous agents who had watched Alex tear towards it, fighting fiercely for every inch of ground, and then lobbing its head from its shoulders with the sword. She had grabbed it, holding it up for the entire world to see, her chest heaving, splattered with its blood -  _ wounds seeping with her own. _

Maggie had imagined the rage coursing through her body, unreleased.

After all was said and done, Maggie had wordlessly followed Alex back to her apartment, where they had sex not unlike the desperation of the night before, still covered in grime and dust from the desert. Kisses were mostly teeth. Words lost to grunts and moans. The tattoo and the blood stains rippled on Alex’s forearm as she fucked her, and Maggie was set alight by the very image. 

And in the shower, the fire tapered away to raw vulnerability. Their embrace was tight, both of them gently swaying under the hot spray. 

It was Alex who finally spoke, pushing the words into Maggie’s neck. 

“We’ve had  _ so _ much sex in 24 hours.”

Which Maggie followed with; “My head is starting to hurt again.”

Alex had cupped Maggie’s cheeks, trying to tilt her stitches out of the spray, and that was when Maggie had first noticed it; Alex’s irises glazed over with a grey colour. She chalked it up to her own exhaustion, and forgot the whole incident. 

After that, Alex had coaxed her out and into bed, bringing her pain medication, a tall glass of water. And they had started this long journey back to each other. 

Hanging beside the sword is Maggie’s dress uniform, dry cleaned and neatly pressed in preparation for the funeral this afternoon. 

“Hey,” a groggy Alex says. “You okay?”

Maggie’s knuckles still, falling to the blankets. “You know, back when I’d broke up with my first serious girlfriend, we were still in the academy. I got shitfaced and threw up everywhere. Johnston held my hair back. Told me he didn’t mind cause he used to have to do it for his mom when she was sick from chemo.”

She isn’t sure where that came from, but its the only thing she can think to say, her voice dry from dehydration through the night. Alex reaches out to stroke Maggie’s jawline, not saying anything. 

“I crashed at his place when we broke up. He even told me he hesitated to propose to Naomi because of us.” She expects Alex to pull away, or the atmosphere to get awkward, but it doesn’t. The touch is constant, and feather-light against her jaw. “We’ve been friends for a long time but the last few years we were a little more distant. And we were getting close again and…”

_ I don’t meet many people that I care about... _

“I need to get up and polish my boots.” She sits up suddenly, ignoring how her whole body tightens with aches.

Alex clasps her good wrist, tugging her back down. “No, you don’t. I got up and did them last night.”

Maggie peeks over the side of the bed, and sure enough, the boots are shining. She eases back, holding Alex’s steady gaze. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to do it for you,” Alex insists.

She relaxes as much as she can. Alex’s touch moves to the large white bandage on her shoulder, and that now-familiar transformation happens; her eyes glaze grey. 

“Your eyes...again.”

“What?” 

“They keep going grey.”

Alex cocks her head, hand stilling. “Grey?”

“It happened after the desert fight when we were in the shower, but I thought it was exhaustion getting to me. Then it happened in the alleyway where we found Snowy, and then in the DEO med bay after-” 

“My eyes are going grey?” Alex sits up, reaching for her phone, so Maggie clarifies.

“They flash grey momentarily. It’s so noticeable because of your natural eye colour.” 

Alex ponders this, Maggie watching her face twitch around a thousand theories and reactions. “I tested some of my blood after the fight but…” She looks up at the sword, and then at her tattoo. “I found an alien compound that I couldn’t crack. Since it wasn’t doing any harm, I just concentrated elsewhere. It wasn’t active. I guess I…”

She shakes her head, looking at Maggie. “That isn’t important right now. What you did was selfless, Maggie. But it almost cost you your own life.”

A lump forms in her throat at the catch in Alex’s voice, which only chokes her more as Alex presses on;

“I know we haven’t talked about  _ it _ , and I don’t think this is the time, but if I was your wife, I don’t think I’d ever be able to say goodbye to you.”

Snowy stirs, sniffing at the bedding. Maggie reaches down to tickle a furry ear.

“We never did actually say goodbye, that night in the DEO.” Maggie shifts towards her. “I mean I tried to, that’s what I came to do.” 

“Sorry we got so distracted.” 

“I’m not sorry.”

Alex bites her lower lip. “It  _ was _ good.”

Snowy yawns, stretching and then padding up the bed. Her tail wags as she snuffles between them.  

“I think someone wants to go out,” Alex says, fondly ruffling the fur behind the pup’s neck. Snowy whines, wiggling and turning in a circle before leaping off the bed, paws clacking the whole way to the front door. 

“I take that as a yes,” Maggie says.  

She stays in bed, staring at the ceiling as she waits for Alex to come back with Snowy. Creeping closer to Christmas, Maggie imagines the snow in Nebraska, wonders what it would be like in National City, if it ever snowed here. 

She curls on her side, facing the window, imagining fat snowflakes drifting past the window. Snowy would be curled asleep by the fire as her owners kept each other warm between the sheets. 

She imagines Alex bundled up against the icy wind, helping a tiny figure build a snowman. She imagines joining them, tumbling into the snow, the laughter. Cocoa by the fire, wrapped in a tartan blanket with a miniature version of herself tucked between them. 

She knows Alex would make a great mother, but repressed that idea for herself. 

Now, she questions what’s changing inside her head. 

Death usually makes her numb, or maybe she’s just gotten so used to numbing grief with alcohol. But right now, its visceral. Part of her wants to stay in this bed, with this woman and their dog, forever. But part of her wants to live, to wring as much out of this life as she could. 

The front door of the apartment opens and shuts, paws clicking excitedly around the island. 

“Who’s a good girl? Is it you?” A yip answers, and then there is Alex’s delighted laughter as she feeds Snowy a treat from the cupboard. 

Maggie doesn’t turn around when Alex comes to bed. There’s a whoosh of clothing being dropped to the floor, and then Alex scoots back into the sheets behind her.

“You’re kinda cold, Danvers,” Maggie says, muffled by the pillow she’s burrowed herself into.

“That’s why I’m letting you warm me up.” Alex runs her fingertips over the white bandage on her shoulder. “This one is gonna leave a nasty scar.” 

Maggie thinks about the brown welt that the debris had seared into her skin. 

(She thinks about the survivor’s guilt seared into her brain). 

“Burn scars are so ugly.”

Alex doesn’t hesitate: “Nothing about you could ever be ugly, Maggie.”

She tears up, lets strong arms hold her closer. 

Today is going to be a storm, one she never had to weather like this. She has never attended a police funeral for someone as close as Daniel. She’s never been chosen, or wanted to be part of an honor guard. This afternoon, she will slow-march with a flag, cast and all.

But while the storm rages outside, Maggie is safe inside, curled in Alex’s arms. 

Here, she has always known, she can heal.

**Author's Note:**

> What happened on Earth 13? Why is Alex's eyes glazing over grey every so often? Any more questions...? There's a few ideas I have for this universe if people want more from it, so lemme know, lads. Thanks for all the support as well, it's so appreciated xx


End file.
